


Finding Your Soulmate In a Bar

by bulletincookie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Couch Cuddles, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is a bit of a slut and thats okay, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28475169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletincookie/pseuds/bulletincookie
Summary: Jaskier tries out speed dating, hoping for whirlwind romances and a string of broken hearts. Possibly even someone to have something on the side with. However, he finds that not in anyone at the speed dating event, but rather in the handsome bartender built like a mountain with humor as dry as white wine.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 25
Kudos: 295
Collections: Bards of Geraskier Secret Santa 2020





	Finding Your Soulmate In a Bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sternenstaub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternenstaub/gifts).



> Hello!! This is a secret santa fic for Stern from the Bards of Geraskier server!! I'm so sorry this was late, I hope the 7k of fluff and awkward flirting makes up for it. I haven't written geraskier in a hot minute haha
> 
> Thank you so much to Charlie for helping me brainstorm this idea!!!

Jaskier bounced up and down in his seat. He had never tried speed dating before, so this was surely going to be exciting and a whirlwind of quick romances and broken hearts. Right up his alley. And maybe he’d find someone to have fun with on the side more frequently after this. As the bell rang, indicating for people to start, a slightly better than average woman sat down in front of him and he gave her his most brilliant smile.

Yet, as the event wore on, each “date” being five minutes, Jaskier found it was five minutes too long for all of them. He took a break to get himself a drink, there was no shortage of people so it wasn’t like he would be missed. He sighed heavily and flopped over the bar. “Please give me a triple of vodka,” he called out, waving loosely at the bartender. He heard a snort come from the bartender as he prepared a drink.

“Speed dating not working out?” the bartender asked.

“No,” Jaskier groaned. “It’s _awful_.” He held up his card. “Just..open a tab for me. This isn’t going to be the only time I come here, I can feel it.”

“You mean you haven’t found your soulmate by talking with random people for five minutes?” the bartender asked, his tone flat and dry. He took the card and swiped it. “Shocking.”

“I’m not looking for my soulmate, I’m just—” Jaskier finally lifted his head up to give the bartender a what-for, and stopped. The bartender was hotter than everyone else in the room combined, and he even had (somewhat) a sense of humor. That was more than he could say for most of his dates. His hair was long and tied back in a high ponytail, and pure white. His eyebrows and the stubble growing on his chin confirmed that yes, the white hair was a genetic thing clearly, and his eyes were a shocking honey color.

“Just?” the bartender asked, lifting an eyebrow as he handed the card back as well as a cup with more vodka than any reasonable person should drink at once.

“It’s uh— just for fun,” Jaskier finished lamely, feeling like his tongue was too heavy in his mouth. “Not really fun right now though.”

“Seems like others are having fun,” the bartender mused, his eyes flicking over Jaskier’s shoulder to the rest of the tables, where some couples were laughing and chatting away.

“Yeah,” Jaskier said with a sigh. He took a sip and winced at the burn of the vodka. “So many of them have the personality of— of a wet piece of cardboard. Others have such an ego.” He glanced briefly over the bartender and nearly choked. Did he really have to wear a short sleeved shirt? It should be illegal with those biceps, they were like the size of Jaskier’s _thighs_. “Ego the size of your muscles, holy _shit_ ,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol yet.

The bartender paused in doing something on the system. “Excuse me?”

“Does bartending give you that much of a workout or do you work out on your own on the side?” Jaskier asked, awed.

“Does it matter?” the bartender asked, furrowing his brow.

At the realization of what he said, and _who_ he said it to, Jaskier’s awe turned into cold shame and guilt. “Sorry, sorry, I— should get back. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He took his drink and scurried back to his table to wait for someone else to come by. He took a deep breath and steeled himself, trying his best to not glance at the bartender who was unfairly attractive that he fucked up and flirted with. He silently cursed at himself as a man sat down at his table.

“Is something the matter?” the man across from him asked, and Jaskier jolted and beamed.

“No, no, just a bit tired. This whole speed dating business is more exhausting for me than I thought it would be,” he explained.

The man laughed. “I hear ya. Reminds me of this one time I was at a different speed dating event…”

And Jaskier officially went back to tuning him out again. He didn’t care about this man’s previous exploits, he could tell by the moment he sat down that this wasn’t going to work out. Before he could stop himself, his eyes wandered back over to the bar. His gaze met with the bartender’s, and he froze and quickly looked back at the guy across from him, who was still chattering away. He sighed and put his chin on his hand, resolutely keeping his gaze away from the bar.

He had a specific rule of not flirting with anyone who was working, unless they clearly were flirting with him first. He had heard enough stories from Priscilla over several years of guys who just wouldn’t take a hint. And now he went and shamelessly flirted with the bartender, who he didn’t know if he was single or even interested in guys, or—

Jaskier spared another glance at the bar. The bartender was helping someone else out. From what he could see, there didn’t seem to be a ring on either of his hands. So maybe not married, but possibly engaged. He huffed out a small sigh. He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t want to make the bartender even more uncomfortable. Maybe he could go up to the bar, order another drink, and say nothing else. That way, he could show that he wasn’t going to pursue it any more, he wouldn’t even look at the unfairly attractive bartender. But first, he had to finish his vodka. Which really wasn’t all that difficult, the way this night was going with speed dating, he really could use the drink.

The round finished— _finally_ — and the next one started without much waiting on his part. Then that one came and went after a bunch of stammering on the other person’s part and Jaskier pitying her and filling in with idle chatter as he sipped at his drink. He could fill the silence easily to talk about himself without actually saying anything about himself, it was a valuable skill he had learned. The round finished with Jaskier obtaining yet another scrap of paper with a number on it, to add to the growing pile of numbers in his coat that would most likely end up in the trash the moment he got home. The next one was another guy, who didn’t even give Jaskier the chance to try to introduce himself a bit and simply launched into talking about himself, his life story, far more information than Jaskier would ever care to want to hear from a complete stranger that he had no intention of seeing again after this. He tipped the rest of his drink back.

At least now he could take another break. He went up to the bar again with his glass, keeping his gaze down. “I’m feeling fruity,” he mused as he picked up the laminated paper with some of the cocktails. “I’ll try a tequila sunrise,” he finally decided, though he still kept his gaze on the menu even as the bartender hummed in affirmation and set about making the drink. He pulled his phone out and scrolled through social media mindlessly, something to keep his eyes from wandering up and watching the bartender make the drink with his muscles flexing with every shake of the cocktail.

“Here. And, uh. You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” the bartender said as he pushed the drink across to Jaskier. “People don’t usually talk to me. Not like that.”

That made Jaskier want to shrivel up and die. Maybe he could slip away from the speed dating event early. “Shit. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the bartender grunted. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I can tell patrons to fuck off if they make me uncomfortable. I’m not forced to— be nice or something.”

“Yeah. My roommate, she’s worked a few customer service jobs. I’ve heard stories from her, I don’t typically flirt with people who are working because of her,” Jaskier reasoned, gesturing with his hands.

“You call that flirting?” the bartender asked with a raised eyebrow. “No wonder you haven’t had any success.”

“Hey!” Jaskier said, pouting and glaring at the bartender. “I will have you know it is _not_ because of me, it is because nobody has gotten my attention. I have plenty of numbers.” To prove it, he reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of the scraps of paper. “See?” He lowered his voice. “I’m going to be shredding most of these when I get home probably. But still, I have plenty of choices. It’s just that nobody’s gotten my attention.”

“Hm.” The bartender’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. Jaskier tried to not stare for too long as he shoved the papers back in his pocket, no matter how charming he was.

“My name’s Jaskier,” he blurted out without thinking. He coughed a bit. “Uh— for the tab.”

“Of course,” the bartender said, though he didn’t make any move to type it into the system. “I’m Geralt. So if it’s not because you can’t flirt for shit, why’re you not having any luck?”

Jaskier shrugged and took a sip of his drink to stall. “Well.” He lowered his voice and leaned in a bit. “You see that guy there? The blond one? He has a small dick. I can tell.”

“Really,” Geralt said, giving that half-smile again.

Jaskier nodded sagely as he took another long drink of his cocktail. It was really good, before he realized it, the drink was almost all gone. “Really. It’s a superpower of mine.” Maybe he shouldn’t have ordered a cocktail after all. Or at least one that didn’t have so many different types of alcohol in it.

“What about me then?” Geralt asked as he prepared a glass of water.

“Well I was going to hold off I didn’t come off as weird, but if you _must_ know,” Jaskier said with a long, put-upon sigh, as if it was a hardship to think about this ridiculously sexy bartender’s dick. “My superpower is telling me you have a _huge_ dick. Not too big to be uncomfortable, just enough to be good.” He drank the rest of his cocktail, feeling pleasantly fuzzy.

Geralt snorted and slid the glass of ice water to him. “Here. Drink this.”

“I’m not so drunk that I can mistake a glass of water for a free drink,” Jaskier protested, though he took a long drink of water anyways. It did taste good.

“Wasn’t trying to trick you. It’s important to stay hydrated.”

Jaskier huffed, and he looked over his shoulder at his empty table. Well, they wouldn’t miss him. The rest of the event seemed to be going smoothly enough.

“Thinking about going back?” Geralt asked.

“No. Thinking about staying here,” Jaskier huffed. “You’re more interesting to talk to. _And_ you let me talk.”

Geralt’s brow furrowed. “It’s not my job to talk.”

“Ah.” Even while a touch too tipsy, Jaskier could take a hint. He cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll go back then. Sorry.”

“Here.” Geralt handed him a napkin.

Jaskier realized at that moment that the glass was nearly dripping condensation. “Oh, thank you. Wouldn’t want to leave a ring on the table,” he said as he gave a cursory wipe down of most of it. Geralt gave him a frown for that, but Jaskier didn’t think too hard on it. Maybe drunkards didn’t usually think about stuff like that.

He shuffled back to his table and plopped down, setting the napkin down on the table. He was about to set his glass on top of it, but paused at the sight of something smudged on the napkin. He looked more closely at it, and realized there was ink smudged on the napkin where he had wiped off his glass. It wasn’t very legible, but it looked like Geralt’s name, as well as…something. Numbers? He squinted at it and then looked up at Geralt, who was busy helping another patron.

Deciding to check with him later, he turned the napkin over and set the glass on top of it. With so many people milling about and talking, it was getting warm. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and unbuttoned a couple more of the top buttons, giving even more of a view of his chest. It was nearly scandalous, but he didn’t care much. He was too busy thinking about what it was that was written on the napkin. Surely he didn’t get the bartender’s number among all of the other numbers he had collected that night. He hadn’t even used his full charm on Geralt. Of course, he didn’t use his full charm on anyone else either, but that was because he wasn’t interested. He was very much interested in Geralt, who wouldn’t be interested in the tall and broad man that had shocking white hair and honey eyes? But he knew better than to hit on someone who was working. If they were blatantly flirting with him first, however…

“Hello?”

A voice shocked him out of his thoughts and he beamed at the shy girl that was suddenly sitting across from him. He hadn’t even heard her sit down. “Sorry. A bit distracted today.”

“It’s okay,” the girl said, tugging on the sleeve of her cabled sweater. “So…what do you do for a living?”

The same boring questions that he’s answered what felt like a thousand times already. He knew trying to get conversation out of this girl was going to be like pulling teeth, so he turned to his usual rambling on about himself. Somehow the girl found his grandiose gesturing and retelling of some horror stories from his past jobs funny, and Jaskier added another number to his pocket. He felt bad, she did seem very sweet, but he knew it wouldn’t work out with how spontaneous of a life he lived.

He had another three unsuccessful fast dates after that, unsuccessful partly due to his lack of focus on anything other than occasionally glancing at the bartender that was still _so unfairly attractive_ and trying to figure out what the hell was written on the napkin. The ink was just a large blot now. He frowned at it and decided enough was enough. He stood up, strode over to the bar with the ink blotted napkin, and slammed it down on the bar a bit more aggressively than he would have liked. Except Geralt was busy tending to another few patrons still, so Jaskier just had to wait in tense silence as he stared Geralt down.

Finally, after about ten minutes— the bastard even helped other people that came up to the bar after Jaskier!— Geralt approached him. At least it gave Jaskier ten whole minutes to think about what he was going to say. It was going to come out so suave and smooth, he would surely sweep this bartender off of his feet immediately.

“What do you want to order?” he asked.

“Your number,” Jaskier blurted out. _Smooth_. He cleared his throat and held up the napkin, showing the ink blot on it. “Was— was this you giving me your number?”

“I won’t push it if you don’t want—” Geralt started, but Jaskier leaned over the bar to snatch up another napkin and shove it at him.

“Write it down again,” he said. “It got smudged last time from the glass.”

Geralt snorted and took a pen out from the apron around his waist to scribble down his name and number again. “That’s the last time,” he said as he handed it to Jaskier. “And don’t grab stuff from over the bar.”

“It was an emergency,” Jaskier said, though he didn’t bother looking up from where he was furiously punching in Geralt’s number and name in his phone. “Can I take a photo of you?”

“Why,” Geralt asked, or rather said, deadpanned.

“For a contact photo!” Jaskier defended. “How else will I know who you are?”

“Do you know many Geralts?”

“No, but I’m horrid at remembering faces.”

Geralt sighed and leaned over the bar a bit, his brow furrowed barely. “Fine. Take your picture.”

Jaskier beamed and snapped the picture to set it as Geralt’s contact photo. “Thank you. Let me just—” He tapped a quick hello text, as was custom, and shoved his phone back in his pocket after he sent it. “So uh..what are you doing after your shift?”

“Going home and sleeping, probably,” Geralt replied simply.

“Can I join you?” Jaskier asked with a cheeky grin, and he held up his hands in defense. “Just to chat and spend some time. Nothing sketchy, no sex if you aren’t up to it. I get working a long shift is tiring.”

Geralt’s eyes scanned over him, as if searching for something, some hint that he wasn’t telling the truth. “I don’t fuck on the first date.”

“That’s fine.”

“I have a daughter. She’s thirteen.”

“I love kids.”

“And a cat that hates everyone.”

“I’m an animal whisperer.”

The corner of Geralt’s mouth curled up again. “We’ll see about that.”

Jaskier beamed, taking it as Geralt’s agreement. “Really? Because you don’t— I get you’re working so—”

“I told you, I can tell you to fuck off if I wanted to. I’m not taken.” Geralt pushed the short sleeve of his shirt up even more. “And I can kick you out myself.”

Jaskier choked on air. “Right. Yeah. Cool. That— That’s good. Great. I’ll uh— stay here then. Until your shift is over. If that’s alright.”

“Hm.” Geralt huffed a small laugh. “My daughter’s at home. So don’t get any ideas.”

Jaskier froze. “Oh, that’s..a bit fast to be meeting your daughter already but you know what I would be honored to meet her.”

“She’s my biggest responsibility,” Geralt said, and his expression hardened into a harsh glare. “If she doesn’t like you, I’m kicking you out immediately.”

“That’s fair,” Jaskier squeaked out as Geralt left to help another patron. He didn’t even know where this guy lived. What if he had to walk back home at night across the entire town? Would there be a cab he could call? He took his phone back out to search. Maybe there were some late cabs that would come and pick him up so he had less of a chance of getting mugged. He glanced back up at Geralt. High risk, high reward. As Geralt took the cork out of a bottle of wine with his bare hands, he decided it was worth it.

Geralt returned to him just a few minutes later. “So what do you want?”

“What?”

“What are you hoping to get out of this? Sex?”

“No!” Jaskier put his hands up in defense. “No, I mean sex would be good yes, but— not just that. If I was just looking for a quick lay I’d go home with someone over there.” He gestured at everyone still milling about and chatting at the speed dating event. “I’m looking for…I don’t know. A partner? But not immediately?” He frowned and chewed on his lip. “I don’t know, really.”

“Companionship,” Geralt offered.

“Yes! That,” Jaskier agreed. “That’s an excellent way of putting it. Companionship. Nothing serious yet, until and only if we’re ready.”

Geralt hummed again. Jaskier silently damned this man for being so attractive but so hard to read.

“Your job?”

“I’m a musician. I do some private classes, commissions, the works.” Jaskier beamed proudly. “It’s more than enough to support myself _and_ shower you in gifts, I assure you.”

“I don’t need gifts,” Geralt grunted. “Save your money.”

“Nobody _needs_ gifts, but they’re a wonderful thing to receive, aren’t they?” Jaskier pointed out. He gave an exaggerated hum and tapped his chin. “What do you like? You strike me as…a comic book aficionado!”

“No.”

“Artist?”

“My daughter draws better than me.”

“Culinary expert.”

Geralt shrugged. “Had to learn to cook to support a thirteen year old. She’s constantly hungry.”

“Ah-ha!” Jaskier clapped his hands together. “So I can get you….uh.” He paused as he realized he knew next to nothing about cooking. “A…frying pan?”

That actually pulled a small laugh from Geralt, and Jaskier felt warm. Was it normal to feel so fond for someone he hadn’t even spent that much time with yet?

He decided it was best to change the topic, and store trying to figure out a good gift for Geralt in the back of his mind for later. “Tell me about your daughter.”

 _That_ seemed to be the secret key to getting Geralt to open up. Even if his face remained neutral, his eyes lit up and he dug in his pocket to pull out his wallet. He took out a small, laminated photo of a brightly grinning girl with platinum blonde hair. She wore an oversized black hoodie that had “GOTH DAD” printed on the front. “This was her school photo. That’s my sweater, she steals it. She says her favorite color is black, but she loves pink.” He tucked the photo back into his wallet carefully, like it was worth Geralt’s weight in gold. “She’s a princess, she rules over her kingdom of stuffed animals. They’re mostly horses and unicorns, and they’re all called Sprinkles. There’s some cats too. She loves lions, her grandmother called her lion cub when she was young. She’s, uh. Not mine, biologically. I got her when she was eight. After her grandmother died.”

Jaskier was resting his head on his chins as he listened intently. He was falling harder and harder for this man as he listened. “Does she have a pink and black unicorn?”

“I’m getting one made for her birthday,” Geralt said, a small smile on his face. “Don’t tell her though. She doesn’t know.”

“Cross my heart,” Jaskier swore, even making a crossing motion over his chest. He glanced down the bar and saw quite a few people staring at them angrily. “Ah, I think you have some work to do.”

Geralt looked and cursed under his breath. He rushed over to help the patrons, and Jaskier was left with his water. The ice had long melted in it, but he hardly even noticed. He was far too smitten for this stoic bartender that cared so much about his daughter. He sighed happily.

Geralt didn’t return to him for a while after that. It took Jaskier flagging him down to get him to come back over.

“Can’t sit and talk with you forever,” Geralt grunted. “I have to work.”

“Well then, how about you get me another tequila sunrise?” Jaskier asked, tracing his finger over the rim of his empty water glass. “I was a good boy and drank all of my water, see? So I deserve another drink.”

Geralt took the empty glass to set it below the counter before getting to work. Jaskier let himself shamelessly ogle him now as he prepared the drink, efficient and with no fancy showing off but still so hot while doing so. The way his muscles moved with every shake of the cocktail shaker should have been illegal. Jaskier gave a low whistle.

“Can I flirt with you more now? Is that a thing I can do?” he asked.

“Why the fuck not,” Geralt replied as he poured the drink into the clean glass and stuck a straw in it.

“Thank you dear,” Jaskier purred. He set his chin on his hand again and smiled. “You know, yellow is my favorite color. Used to be because it was the color of the sun, of happiness, that sort of thing. I think now it’s my favorite because of your eyes. They’re _gorgeous_. Everything about you is gorgeous. You’re stunning, I can’t even begin to think of poetry to write down that would properly capture how hot you are. How are you even real?”

Geralt snorted and prepared another glass of water for him. “Maybe I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

“You’re like a dream,” Jaskier murmured. “A dream I never want to wake up from. I get seasick, but I absolutely don’t mind going for a ride on a dreamboat like you.”

“I have other customers to attend to. Think about better poetry and metaphors while I’m gone,” Geralt said with a small quirk of his lips. Jaskier gave a small wave to him as he left to go make drinks for other people. He looked so attractive, even while just pouring a few shots of whiskey for the reckless guys that were clearly going to try to out-drink one another. It surely wasn’t going to end well.

He sipped at his cocktail absentmindedly, and when that was finished, he sipped at his water. How lovely of Geralt to think of his wellbeing like that, of giving him water so he didn’t wake up with a pounding headache.

“You’re so sweet,” he mumbled when Geralt finally came back.

“What?” Geralt asked. He took the two empty glasses and prepared another glass of water.

“I said, you’re _sweet_ ,” Jaskier repeated, a little louder. “You’re getting me fuckin’…water. That’s sweet.” He huffed and rubbed his eyes. “Ugh, fuck I shouldn’t be this drunk from a few drinks.”

“You had a triple of vodka and two cocktails that had five different types of top shelf alcohol in them,” Geralt replied flatly. “Of course you’re drunk.”

“Mm.” Jaskier pouted and rested his head on his arms, on the bar. “I wanted to enjoy tonight though. Going on a date with you, back at your place.”

“How much have you had to eat today?” Geralt asked as he set the new glass of water down in front of him.

Jaskier didn’t bother lifting his head up just yet to drink it, he was too busy thinking about that day. What did he have to eat? “A bag of cheese puffs. And…a sandwich.”

Geralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m cutting you off. No more drinks.”

“Okay,” Jaskier mumbled. He could agree with that. “Can I still come over? I’ll be on my best behavior, no noise to wake your daughter.”

“Yeah. But no clothes come off.”

“But I _hate_ sleeping in jeans.”

“You can borrow some of my clothes.”

“You’re being awfully nice to someone you just met,” Jaskier slurred. He sat up and pointed at Geralt. “What if I’m just— just acting drunk? And I’m going to kill you or rob you?”

“I’ve been making your drinks. You’re drunk.”

“And _you’re_ sexy,” Jaskier fired back with a small laugh. “Can I sleep in the same bed as you tonight? Since no clothes.”

“I said no clothes _off_ ,” Geralt corrected, and he gave a pointed nudge of the glass of water towards Jaskier. “Drink your water.”

“That’s what I said,” Jaskier protested, but sipped at the water anyways while Geralt left to go back to doing his job. The bar was getting even busier, and he was getting sleepy. Maybe he wouldn’t go over to Geralt’s tonight after all. The small— very small— part of his brain that was still functioning correctly wondered how he’d get home. Would he have to call someone to come get him? That’d be embarrassing.

Just as he was thumbing through his contacts, trying to figure out who he could reasonably call to explain that he’s too drunk to get home when it was only six, Geralt returned.

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier gave a noncommittal hum in reply. “Sleepy.”

“Want to nap in the backroom?” Geralt asked. “Not much back there, but it’s quiet.”

That sounded _wonderful_. “Will you come get me when your shift is done?”

“I will.”

Geralt walked around the bar to gently grab Jaskier’s arm. “Come on.” He guided him slowly towards a door that was labeled for staff only, and Jaskier panicked.

“But I’m not staff,” he protested.

“It’s fine. The only person that might see you is the cook. I’ll tell him you’re okay,” Geralt assured him. His voice was so soothing, Jaskier could melt into it.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

Geralt guided him over to a couch that sat against a wall and helped him sit down. “Here.” Jaskier squinted as he realized Geralt held a leather jacket out to him. “If you get cold.”

“Not cold,” Jaskier mumbled, but Geralt wrapped the jacket around his shoulders anyways. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and snuggled down into it.

“I’ll be back to check on you when I can,” Geralt promised as he pulled a small bin over, a liner already in it. “Here’s a bin if you feel sick. Stay on your side.”

“Okay,” Jaskier mumbled, though he barely registered it. He flopped down onto the couch and curled up on his side, snuggling into the jacket more.

When Geralt came to check on him twenty minutes later, Jaskier was already fast asleep and drooling a bit on the couch. He smiled and slipped into the kitchen.

“Hey, Eskel,” he called over to the chef. “Put someone in the back. Drunk as hell and fast asleep. Don’t be alarmed by him if you go back there.”

“Got it,” Eskel said from where he was putting a basket in the fryer. “Friend of yours?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Geralt promised before going back to tending the bar. When his shift finally ended, relieved by three bartenders to keep up with the evening crowd that seemed to have gotten started early, he slipped into the back where Jaskier was still fast asleep. He knelt down and gave him a small shake.

“Hey, Jaskier,” he called out softly.

“Hmm, what?” Jaskier mumbled, blinking his eyes open and squinting at Geralt. “Geralt?”

“Yeah. Shift’s over, want to come over to my place still?”

“Yes _please_.”

Geralt helped him up, though it was clear the nap had done Jaskier some good. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Jaskier mumbled. “I don’t think it’s all out of my system yet.”

“My place isn’t that far.” Geralt fished his keys out of the pocket of the jacket that Jaskier still wore, and led him down a hall in the back and through a door to the employee parking.

“I feel like I should be making a backdoor joke here,” Jaskier mumbled with a small laugh.

“Save it. Like I said, no clothes off tonight.”

“Except for changing into something more sleep worthy right?”

“Yes.”

“No worries, I got it. Don’t want to scar your daughter,” Jaskier assured him. “Will she be awake when we get in?”

“She better not be, she’s got school tomorrow,” Geralt grumbled as he led Jaskier to a truck that was clearly an older model but looked brand new still.

Jaskier laughed a bit on that. “Bet you a fiver that she is.”

“I won’t bet on that, I know she is. She’s a teenager.” Geralt sighed as he opened the door to the passenger side first for Jaskier and then got into the drivers side. “She’s probably gotten into the ice cream too. I hid it behind some frozen chicken, but I’m sure she found it.”

Jaskier laughed. “I had a younger sister who was like that. Didn’t matter how well you tried to hide sweets in the house, she would find them and devour them.”

Geralt only hummed at that, his lips curled up in a small smile.

Jaskier wiggled a bit in the nice leather seat. “So…how much money have you spent on restoring this baby?”

“Only parts. I’m a mechanic on the side.”

“Oh and here I thought you couldn’t get any more hot,” Jaskier purred. “I’ve got some parts that you can work on.”

Geralt snorted. “Maybe later.”

“Of course, I know the rules. Not tonight, not on the first date. But I’d love to go on more dates with you after this. And not just to get to sex. I really do want to get to know you better.”

“Hm. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

The rest of the drive was in relative silence, with Jaskier occasionally speaking up as something crossed his mind and Geralt answering, but for the majority of the drive they were content to sit in comfortable silence. Jaskier watched everything pass by in the window with his chin in his hand, humming along to the old rock that was crackling out from the radio.

Soon they pulled up to a quiet little house, where a light was still glowing through the blinds, along with the telltale blue glow of a TV. Geralt sighed and got out of the car to head to the door while Jaskier hopped out. Geralt motioned for him to stay put in the kitchen and be quiet as he led him inside, which Jaskier willingly listened. The last thing he wanted to do is startle a teenage girl. He still crept as close to the doorway to the rest of the house as he could manage, though, and peeked just barely around it. The girl that was in Geralt’s wallet photo was curled up on the couch under a blanket, though clearly breathing too fast and her eyelids were darting too much for her to actually be asleep.

“Ciri,” Geralt said as he came to stand by the couch. “I know you’re awake.”

“No I’m not,” Ciri replied, giving herself away with a wide smile.

“Come on, it’s a school night.” Geralt tried to rip the blanket off of her, but Ciri held tight to it while still staying “asleep”.

“Can’t I take tomorrow off?” Ciri whined.

“No. Come on,” Geralt said. “If you get up you can meet a friend of mine.”

That made the girl sit upright in an instant with wide eyes. “You made a friend?” Ciri asked. She spotted Jaskier peeking from around the corner and leaned over to peer at him around where Geralt was blocking her vision. “How much is he paying you?”

“Lots of money. Enough to buy at least three chocolate bars,” Jaskier replied without missing a beat. Geralt jolted and whirled around to glare at him, clearly about to point out that Jaskier was told to _stay in the kitchen and stay quiet_ , but Jaskier’s reply pulled a small laugh from Ciri.

“You better share,” she said. “I’m his pimp, I’m responsible for the payment of all of his friends.”

“Ciri that’s not what a pimp is,” Geralt said with a long-suffering sigh and a pinch of his nose.

“I know,” Ciri replied. “But it still works.”

“Wh— how do you know what a pimp is?”

“Uncle Lambert.”

“Of course.” Geralt took the blanket and folded it to drape it back over the couch. “Come on, brush your teeth and go to bed.”

“But I haven’t even met your friend!” Ciri protested.

“I’m Jaskier. We’ll have more chances to get to know each other, I’m sure,” Jaskier assured her as he stepped more into the living room. “But you won’t have more chances to get sleep for tomorrow.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Ciri grumbled, taking him in fully before trudging down the hall to the bathroom. The sound of an electric toothbrush started up soon after.

Geralt sighed and smiled a bit before turning back to Jaskier. “Well, there’s my daughter,” he said simply.

“She’s lovely,” Jaskier said, trying to show as much as he could that he was completely genuine about it. “So, bed?”

“We could,” Geralt said, though he glanced just long enough at the TV for Jaskier to notice.

“Orrrrrrr, we could sit and watch something for a bit?” Jaskier suggested. “I’m not all that tired after my nap, really. I’m more hungry than anything.”

Geralt smiled. “Pick a show out, I’ll get food.”

“Perfect!” Jaskier trilled. He bounced over to the couch and plopped down, delighting in how soft it was. He pulled the blanket that Geralt so neatly folded off of the back of the couch to wrap himself up in it and snuggle down. He started the long and arduous process of scrolling through the shows while he heard Geralt doing something in the kitchen.

Turns out, that something was making pasta. With sauce and herbs sprinkled on top and plated like it was coming from a restaurant. Geralt brought in the two plates and forks just as Jaskier made his decision.

“Holy shit I thought you were going to get popcorn or— or crackers! Not a whole meal!” Jaskier said, trying to keep his voice down for the sake of not disturbing Ciri.

“You didn’t eat a lot today,” Geralt reasoned as he sat down next to Jaskier and handed over a plate. Jaskier took it and immediately started to dig in with a low moan.

“Fuck, this is so good. I’m going to bother you to cook for me all the time now.”

“Don’t.”

Jaskier laughed at the quick and flat answer he received. “I won’t, don’t worry. I’m perfectly capable of ordering my own takeout.” He started the show and sat back with his delicious meal and delicious new acquaintance.

Geralt smiled at that and sat back as well, trying his best to subtly shift closer to Jaskier. However, subtlety wasn’t all that easy when trying to move closer on a couch that seemed intent on sucking them both in, so Jaskier took the blame for snuggling and scooted closer with no hesitance. He felt Geralt relax next to him and rested his head on a broad shoulder as he continued to eat his pasta. The tomato sauce was perfect, not too overpowering and it worked in tandem with the herbs so well that Jaskier felt like crying from the burst of flavors on his tongue.

“You are a culinary expert,” he mumbled in awe.

“It’s just pasta.”

“It’s the best damn pasta I’ve had.”

He felt more than heard the chuckle that Geralt gave at that, and it flooded him with warmth. He shoveled in pasta as fast as he could without choking, both because he was suddenly aware of how starving he was but also because he had _plans_. Notably, plans that involved lap sitting. He hoped Geralt would be alright with it.

Jaskier finished his plate in record time, though Geralt was close behind. He was vibrating with excitement as Geralt got up to take care of their plates. He opened the blanket when Geralt came back, spreading his arms wide. “Your seat is ready.”

“What?” Geralt asked, stopping and staring at him with a furrowed brow.

“You can sit on my lap. If you want,” Jaskier added quickly. “No weird erections or anything, I promise. But I want to hold you.”

“I’ll crush you.”

“I have strong thighs, I do squats _every day_ for this specific purpose. Come on, sit.” Jaskier gave an emphatic pat on his thigh. He waited patiently as the offer clearly made the cogs in Geralt’s head turn, and he beamed when Geralt carefully sat down, though it was more sitting sideways beside Jaskier and draping his legs over his thighs. Well that just wouldn’t do.

Jaskier trapped Geralt in the blanket cocoon and yanked him back with him. Geralt actually _yelped_ , and it was the cutest sound he had ever heard come from such a serious and strong man. The momentum sent Geralt sprawling on top of Jaskier, his weight on Jaskier’s thighs and chest.

“See? Told you I can take it,” Jaskier cooed. “Comfy?”

A blush was spreading across Geralt’s pale cheeks, and he shifted so he could sit more comfortably curled up on Jaskier’s lap. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

“You’re not that heavy love. Hasn’t anyone held you before?”

“No.”

Jaskier gasped and put a hand on Geralt’s head where it was pressed against his chest. “Hear that? That’s the sound of my heart breaking for you. You deserve to be held.”

“I don’t need to be held like a child,” Geralt grumbled.

“Not holding you like a child dearest,” Jaskier fired back, his fingers combing through Geralt’s hair. “Holding you like a lover.”

“Hm.”

“Hmmm,” Jaskier hummed in agreement. He felt Geralt laugh softly and smiled more. He was already so smitten with this man, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He knew he was in trouble when Geralt eventually melted more against him, both of them only barely watching the show. Jaskier was more focused on tracing his fingers up and down Geralt’s back through his shirt, making sure to keep his touches innocent and with no teasing.

“Shit,” Geralt mumbled suddenly, one hand fisting in Jaskier’s shirt. When Jaskier only gave a small hum in question, Geralt sat up and faced Jaskier fully, staring him down. Jaskier was hyper aware of Geralt’s breath puffing against his lips gently as their eyes stayed locked.

He wanted so desperately to kiss Geralt. He brought a hand up to cup Geralt’s jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t been on a date in a while,” Geralt admitted, his brow furrowed. He looked almost angry, though the next thing that came out of his mouth made Jaskier realize it wasn’t that at all. “You’re making me rethink my rules.”

“Your daughter is down the hall, remember,” Jaskier whispered.

“Not that. I— don’t usually kiss on the first date, either.”

“Mm. Chivalrous.” Jaskier wet his lips and smiled. “Is that a more flexible rule?”

“It is now.” With that, Geralt leaned in and captured Jaskier in a slow kiss, pressing him into the couch with his own weight. Jaskier held onto him tighter, keeping a firm grip on his sides. It wasn’t the best, as far as kisses went. Both of their lips were a bit chapped, and Geralt’s hair was falling everywhere and tickling Jaskier’s face. But it was sweet, and soft, and Jaskier could have died happy right then and there. Or at least, he could have, until—

“Gross.”

Geralt yanked himself away from Jaskier in a flash, glaring daggers at his daughter peeking around the corner with a grin. “Ciri! _Go. To. Bed._ ”

“Wanted to get some water,” Ciri replied, making her way for the kitchen.

“You hate water,” Geralt called after her.

“I suddenly have a craving for it,” she shouted back from the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare grab a Pepsi.”

“Just water.” The telltale sound of the tap being turned on confirmed it. Ciri walked back out a few moments later with a glass of water and waved at them as she headed back for her room. “Good night. Don’t make any noise.”

“We won’t,” Jaskier promised. Even when the door clicked shut, they both held their breath and kept quiet to make sure that there weren’t any sneaky footsteps.

Geralt finally huffed when they were sure they were alone again. “Teenagers,” he mumbled, and Jaskier smiled.

“I know how that goes,” he agreed. He trailed a hand down over Geralt’s chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Forgot already?” Geralt teased with a small smile.

“My memory’s horrid. You’ll have to remind me.”

“Troublesome.”

Yet Geralt indulged him, happy to jog his memory several times over that night, and the following morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please leave a comment and kudos! It helps drive me to write other fics


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